


Idiot

by Nkala99



Series: Multi-Fandom One Shots [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Humor, possible crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:40:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28622718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nkala99/pseuds/Nkala99
Summary: “It takes a very special kind of idiot to pull off what you just did.”
Series: Multi-Fandom One Shots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2097387
Kudos: 6





	Idiot

**Author's Note:**

> I pretty much just put in the characters I wanted. It likely doesn’t follow canon at all, but I wanted these guys in a room together, and it worked. What actually happened with Clint is left to your imagination.

Clint took a deep breath as the elevator began to slow in its ascent to their common floor. He would have given his favorite gun to be able to go straight to his floor without risking running into his team, but unfortunately the only access to his refuge was through the rarely-deserted common floor.

The elevator doors slid open. Clint cautiously glanced left and right, then stepped onto the floor. The one hearing aid that was still working picked up the faint sound of a television, but not what was playing on it.

Clint crept down the hall, keeping close to the wall. If he could make it to the kitchen, he could use the vent above the fridge to bypass the living room, then-.

“Back so soon?”

Clint jumped a foot in the air and spun around, hands grabbing for knives no longer there. He cursed, glaring at Bucky’s amused face.

Bucky was leaning against the wall behind him, where Clint knew for a fact he _hadn’t_ been moments ago. One eyebrow was raised, his arms were folded over his chest, and he had the biggest shit-eating grin on his face that Clint had ever seen.

Clin’t scowl darkened. “Fuck off, Barnes.”

Bucky’s grin widened. “Trouble at the store?”

He knew. Damn him, but he knew. Clint spun around and continued down the hall.

Undeterred, Bucky pushed himself off of the wall and caught up to him. “You only left about an hour ago.”

“I know.” Clint paused at the end of the hall and peeked around the corner.

“To go to that store on the corner,” Bucky continued.

“I _know_ ,” Clint repeated. He spied Bruce alone watching TV and decided to take his chances. He headed towards the living room, keeping to the perimeter.

“To pick up bagels.”

Clint spun around, piercing Bucky with a fierce glare. “I _know_ , Barnes. I was _there_.”

Bucky’s lack of concern for Clint’s temper did not go unnoticed by the archer. “Did you at least get the bagels?”

Clint crossed his arms. “Do I _look_ like I got the bagels?”

Bucky’s steel blue eyes swept up and down Clint’s form, taking in the torn and bloody mess of his clothes and his general disheveled appearance. “All that and nothing to show for it, huh?”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Steve said, appearing suddenly from the kitchen. “I mean, he _did_ dismantle the entire Delucci mob while he was out.”

“Not to mention the store,” Tony added, snacking on a sandwich as he joined them.

“No bagels, though,” Bucky pointed out.

Clint was beginning to feel hemmed in as he glanced from one teammate to the next. “How can you _possibly_ know all that?” he demanded, moving into the living room. “I _just_ got back.”

“Most of it’s on the news,” Bruce spoke up from the couch. He gestured at the eighty-inch television screen with the remote. “How exactly did you manage to get all those pigeons to swarm those guys?”

Clint did a double-take when he noticed one of the store clerks on the screen, waving and gesturing about as she told her story. With his one working hearing aid- and Clint was being quite generous with that description- he could only pick out one in five words. With most of those being some odd sub-dialect of English known only to teenagers, he tuned her out.

“Forget the pigeons!” Tony’s demand drew Clint’s attention back to his teammates. “I want to know how the hell you set water on _fire_.”

“You’re a scientist, Stark,” Clint shot back. “I’m sure you could figure it out.”

“With additional chemicals, sure,” Tony replied. “But I saw you use water. From _bottles_. In the cooler.”

“You saw me?” Clint felt his heart sink.

“As soon as we heard what was happening, Tony had JARVIS hack into every security camera on the block,” Steve told him.

Something wasn’t adding up. “Wait,” Clint said. “The fire-water thing was before the news vans got there. They didn’t pull up until after I left. How did _you_ know before _them_?”

“TikTok,” Bucky stated.

Clint blinked at him. He blinked again. “Uh . . . What?”

Bucky smirked. “What, you think you’re the only one of us with an account? Your video went viral in ten seconds flat.”

“Which explains the surprise flash mob doing the YMCA,” Bruce added. “How many sound systems did you have to rewire to play the music so loud?”

Clint shrugged, feeling his cheeks begin to burn.

“YMCA, Legolas?” Tony asked. “You couldn’t have picked something from this century?”

“I needed a song that most people would know,” Clint argued. “It was the only one I could think of on the spot!”

“As distractions go, it wasn’t a bad plan,” Bruce offered.

Clint smiled at him. Bruce was good people. Bruce would be spared his wrath as he plotted retaliation against everyone else for making him relive this.

“Although, I _have_ to ask why you decided to confront the robbers wearing only your boxer shorts and a scarf,” Bruce added.

The smile vanished. Bruce would be the first to die.

“The knife juggling was a nice touch,” Steve commented.

“I turned it into a meme,” Tony stated. “It’s already trending across most of the social media sites.” He pulled out his phone, typed a command, and showed everyone the screen.

Sure enough, a surprisingly clear picture from the store’s security camera showed a scantily-clad Clint mid-juggle with the words ‘And for my next trick . . .’ scrawled across the bottom.

“Only ‘most’?” Bucky asked Tony.

Tony shrugged and pocketed his phone. “Instagram is lagging. It’ll catch up eventually.”

Clint was halfway between plotting murder and plotting his own escape when the elevator dinged. He glanced down the hall, hoping for rescue when Phil Coulson appeared. Phil’s placid blue gaze sharpened on Clint almost immediately.

“It wasn’t my fault,” Clint blurted out reflexively.

“Oh, I’m sure the robbery itself wasn’t your fault,” Phil replied, moving to join them. “Backing up traffic in midtown Manhattan during lunch rush? Partially demolishing the store you were trying to save? I’ve calculated that about eighty-five percent of this fiasco is your fault.”

“Hey, I had help with the demolishing part!” Clint protested. “They were the ones with guns! And _they’re_ the ones that blew up the AC unit.”

“Fine, sixty-five percent your fault,” Phil amended. “Right now I’m trying to figure out if you’re a genius or an idiot.”

“He lit _water_ on _fire,_ ” Tony stated.

“He got pigeons to do his bidding,” Bucky added.

“And he got some very bad guys off of the street,” Bruce said.

“He also could have called the police to handle a simple convenience store robbery,” Phil said pointedly.

“That must be the idiot part,” Bucky mused.

Steve clapped a hand on Clint’s shoulder. “ _I_ don’t think you’re an idiot,” he told the archer.

“Er . . . Thanks?” Clint replied

“Jury’s out for me,” Tony stated. “I mean, all evidence to the contrary, but it takes a very special kind of idiot to pull off what you just did.”

Clint scowled. “ _Thanks_ ,” he said flatly.

Tony beamed. “Anytime!”

“Natasha is facilitating the clean up for our end,” Phil said, bringing the conversation back around. “She’ll bring you your knives once the police have finished processing them.”

Clint nodded in relief. He really liked those knives.

“While we wait for her, you and I are going to head back to my office to have a little chat about appropriate, measured responses to problems in the field,” Phil stated.

Clint winced.

“Wait, you came all the way down here just to grab Katniss and haul ass back to headquarters?” Tony asked. “You couldn’t have just called and told him to report there?”

The look Phil gave Tony could have melted steel. “I could have,” he said blandly. “But given the fact that Clint’s last unsupervised trek downtown resulted in a three-ring circus that’s set to headline every major news organization tonight, I thought it more prudent to escort him myself.”

“Says the man who took out gas station thieves with a bag of flour,” Clint muttered.

Phil’s eyes zeroed in on him. “Which is only known about because Mr. Stark won’t take it off of YouTube.”

“Wait, what?” Bucky pulled out his phone and began typing.

Phil rolled his eyes, then beckoned Clint with two fingers. “Let’s go, Barton. You’ve got an entire drawer’s worth of paperwork waiting for you in my office.”

Clint’s shoulders slumped. “Figures I’d survive thieves and the mob only to die from a thousand papercuts.”

“Tell you what,” Tony said. “If you need another flash mob distraction to escape, there’s a Walking Dead convention not far from SHIELD headquarters. Just pipe _Thriller_ through the PA system and you’re golden.”

Clint’s retribution for reliving that afternoon’s events would be swift an unmerciful, he decided.

And extraordinarily entertaining.

He _was_ a showman, after all.

* * *

END 


End file.
